Something Old, Something New
by Azkabella
Summary: Prompt: Sad/Fluffy declaration of love before Eleven regenerates. Written before The Time of the Doctor aired.


**Prompt**: some fluffy/sad admitting of feeling from eleven before he regenerates

* * *

She couldn't feel the cold snow on her knees as she knelt on the ground or hear the soldiers shouting in the distance as they put out the last of the fires and looked for survivors. All she could feel was the weight of his upper body as she cradled his head in her lap, his breathing erratic and his eyes unfocused on a spot somewhere over their heads - the Christmas lights, maybe. Not too far off, Clara could swear she heard the TARDIS releasing a mournful sound; of course, she knew what was happening.

"Don't cry, Clara. Please."

Clara's lip trembled and she slammed her eyes shut. The Doctor released a heavy breath and shifted his head in her lap, and Clara snapped her eyes open in alarm, sighing with relief when she found him watching her. She had feared that breath had been his last.

"I should have been there," she said shakily, sniffing back tears. "I'm supposed to protect you."

"You couldn't have stopped it," he assured her, closing his eyes. "It would have killed you ."

Clara cradled his face in her hands. "I know you -" She stopped and pressed her lips into a firm light to hold back a sob. "I know you're going to be alright. I know that. You'll just change and keep on going like you've always done. But I'm… I'm going to miss this face."

Her hand stroked his cheek and the Doctor managed to smile.

"And here I thought you'd be glad to be rid of this chin," he joked.

Clara laughed through her tears and found herself stroking his chin fondly. "Shut up; I love this chin."

He touched her hand and closed his eyes again. Clara bent forward and cradled his head against her chest, tears dripping from her eyes as she took shaky breaths to calm herself. The Doctor laced his fingers through hers and gave her hand a gentle squeeze, a weak squeeze.

This wasn't right. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. It was happening too soon, and she wasn't ready to say goodbye, although part of her argued that she never would have been.

"Clara… Get me back to the TARDIS."

The Doctor tried to sit up and gasped with pain before falling back against her lap.

"Please," he begged, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

She nodded quickly and helped him up, trying hard not to let the groans and gasps of pain affect her as much as they did. The Doctor leaned heavily on her as they walked towards the TARDIS, which was parked just around the corner. The Doctor sucked in a pained breath with every step and fell about ten feet short of the TARDIS doors.

Clara gasped with alarm. "Doctor!"

"I can't do this here," he said tearfully. "I can't die here."

A powerful emotion gripped her chest and Clara's vision blurred with tears that spilled down her cheeks. She covered her mouth with her hand and then struggled to compose herself.

He was dying. This wasn't a time for her to breakdown and make this about her pain.

"My Doctor," she said with a fond smile, her lips trembling as she stroked his hair. "I'm here. I'm here."

He lifted his hand to her face and pressed his thumb against her trembling lips, which stilled under his touch.

"I'm glad you are. My Clara… My impossible girl…"

She laughed wetly. Over time, the term had come to mean something less mysterious and more irksome to the Doctor. And yet he spoke the words with such fondness, almost as he were uttering three completely different words.

Clara leaned forward, and the Doctor kept his eyes locked with hers. She didn't know what she was doing, she dare not even think of it, but as she drew slowly closer, the Doctor slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her into a soft kiss.

She didn't know if her heart had stopped or was beating so fast that the beats were indivisible. His fingertips pressed softly against her scalp and Clara's lips shook against his. They pulled apart and neither knew what to say. All she could do was stare at his lips and know that she would never see them again. Not in this life.

"Clara… Get back…"

"Doctor?"

She knew what was happening, but her eyes still went wide when she saw the golden light seeping out of his pores.

"Get back!" he cried desperately, and Clara scrambled backwards in the snow, stopping only when she felt a pile of rubble at her back.

Invigorated by the energy coursing through him, the Doctor stood and stared at his hands. Clara felt paralysed as she watched the gold light glow even brighter, and before it completely obscured his features, she saw him flash her a grin and wink.

And then he died.

The light was so bright that she had to turn away and shut her eyes. A surge of energy blew like a snowstorm around them, and then suddenly everything was dark and still, and she heard him panting heavily in the cold.

"Blimey," said the Doctor with his new voice.

Clara opened her eyes and looked up at him through the strands of hair that had blown across her face. A tall, wiry man with dark grey hair and creases around his eyes and mouth was staring at his hands and muttering incoherently. She stood slowly and watched him, unsure of what to make of what she was seeing. Clara knew that he was the Doctor, but she had never seen this man before. She'd seen all the others.

"… The nose… blimey. _Wait a minute_," he said gravely, his eyes meeting hers. "No. Oh my god, no."

With the eyes of a wild man, the Doctor stumbled forward and grabbed Clara's upper arms tightly. She gasped in surprise.

"Do I sound," he began, drawing in a shaky breath. "_Scottish?"_

Clara couldn't help but look at his eyes; they were still a familiar shade of green. "Um… a bit."

He lowered his gaze and snarled before releasing his grip on her and then pacing back and forth in the snow.

"Amelia Pond! This is down to her, I know it. She was with me too long; she was bound to rub off on me somehow. God, that's strong," he said, waving his hand in front of his face as if he could waft the Scottish accent away.

The Doctor returned his attention to Clara when he noticed her wiping her face.

"Clara, are you alright?" he asked with concern, closing the space between them. "You've been crying."

He acted as if he didn't know why; maybe he didn't. Maybe he'd forgotten everything that had just happened. Maybe more of him had died than she knew.

The Doctor's eyes searched hers and Clara wanted to look away, but then his gaze softened in understanding and his features grew grim.

"Oh, _Clara_. I'm _so_ sorry."

He hugged her tightly to him, but Clara could only stand there with her arms dangling limply at his sides. She felt like she was being hugged by some random stranger on the street.

But then she felt it, that familiar _thump thump thump thump_ of his hearts. Clara closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around him, releasing a slow breath as she came to terms with the fact that this strange man with the funny eyebrows and Scottish accent was _her_ Doctor.

"Are you alright?" he asked as he pulled away, his hand smoothing back her hair from her face as he examined her features. "You didn't get hurt?"

"No, I'm fine," she assured him.

The Doctor nodded rapidly and then pressed a wet kiss to her forehead. "Good. Good. So… I guess we'd better get going, then."

"Going where?" she asked, grabbing his hand as he made his way towards the TARDIS.

He raised a bushy eyebrow and shot her a look. "What'd you wanna stick around here for?"

Clara laughed. And laughed. She felt like she might go insane. It shouldn't be funny, in fact it wasn't funny, but then again it really, really was. The Doctor squeezed her hand and Clara wiped tears of laughter from her eyes before squeezing his hand back. Their eyes met and Clara smiled.

"Hello."

The Doctor flashed her a brilliant grin. "Hello." He frowned. "Blimey, that's going to take some getting used to. Alright, then! Back to the TARDIS."

He opened the door and dashed inside. Clara followed shortly after him, closed the door behind her, and watched as this new Doctor whirled around the console.

"Dammit," he muttered as he stopped and stared at the controls. "A lot of this was muscle memory, you know."

"Is that gone?"

The Doctor raised his hand and wiggled his fingers at her. "New muscles."

"Oh. Right."

Clara approached the console and dragged her fingers along the edge as she slowly moved around it. She felt numb, like she wasn't fully processing everything that was happening. It was all just so sudden. The Doctor had gone from weak and dying to jumping about like a mad rabbit. She could still feel his lips against hers, and without knowing it she brought her fingers to her lips. Her other hand was still dragging along the edge of the console as she walked until she felt another hand drape across the back of hers, stilling her movements.

She looked up to find the Doctor watching her almost nervously.

"I uh," he began, lowering his eyes and clearing his throat. "I was… dying. And… you know, you were… and I…" He cleared his throat again. "I hope I didn't upset you."

"Of course you upset me," she said softly. "You were dying."

"Right, right. I remember." He released a nervous laugh. "What I mean is, I hope you weren't… you know… That everything was okay… with the…" He raised his other hand and gestured loosely to his lips with his fingers. "The kissing thing."

Clara grinned. The way he looked at her now, fidgeting on his feet and blushing two shades pinker than she remembered him being, reminded her once again that her Doctor was still here. She stepped up on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss against his lips, surprising him and her at the same time.

"Yeah. I think it's okay."


End file.
